


The Blood That Moves the Body

by totilott



Series: A Groovy Kind of Love [8]
Category: DCU (Comics), Justice League International (Comics)
Genre: 1980s, Bisexual Character, Drunken Kissing, Fantasizing, Intoxication, M/M, Party, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Frustration, Slow Burn, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-07 01:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19074793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totilott/pseuds/totilott
Summary: The League is throwing a party, but Ted's got too much on his mind to relax.





	The Blood That Moves the Body

“You’re _not_ playing B-52 out at our party, Beetle.” Bea makes a face. “No way. We need something fun, something cool.”

“Hey, The B-52s are fun and cool.” Ted holds up the cover to Cosmic Thing as if that proves his point exactly.

“We need something we can dance to,” Bea argues and continues flipping through the records on the shelf. “Not novelty songs.”

“You listen to two bars of ‘Love Shack’ and tell me you don’t want to boogie down,” Ted retorts, and puts Cosmic Thing on the top of the play pile.

Bea picks it up with two fingers, like something putrid, and adds it to the _no_ pile.

“We can’t sit around all evening listening to nothing but Paula Abdul,” Ted whines, but continues flicking through the stack of records in his lap.

Tora sits down on the floor next to them, gently pushing away the chaos of LPs. “Ooh, do we have any harding fiddle music? I can't get enough of it lately.”

Both Ted and Bea regard her, silently.

“Is that the thing I’ve heard coming from your room?” Ted asks. “I thought there was a sick cat somewhere.”

“Tora, I don’t think, um,” Bea places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “What I mean is, the harding fiddle is an acquired taste.”

“You can’t acquire it if you’re not subjected to it,” Tora smiles.

“Let’s not subject people to it at my party, alright?” Bea pats her on the shoulder and resumes scanning the shelves.

“Your party? It’s _our_ party,” Ted interjects. Though he must concede it was all Beatriz' idea, he hasn't thrown a party, a real party where people actually enjoy themselves, pretty much ever. And there’s more to celebrate in her case, anyway. She got those thrilling new firepowers. He’s simply been declared well enough to resume active duty as a League member.

Bea’s progressed, broken new ground. He’s simply made it to the place he was, months ago.

“What about some Bobby Brown?” she posits. “Hey, Booster!”

Ted freezes immediately, staring fixedly down at the records in his lap. On the top of the pile is Madonna's True Blue.

“I saw your Dusk ad,” Bea cheerfully continues to Booster, somewhere behind Ted. “You looked so good!”

“You were in an ad?”

Out of the corner of his eye Ted can see Tora beam with excitement.

“Yeah, just a cologne thing.” There's gentle hesitation in Booster's voice. He's probably smiling awkwardly.

“ _Just_ a cologne thing?” Bea grins. “You’re in, like, every single glossy magazine. Tora, grab that Cosmo on the table, just look at him.”

Tora moves out of Ted’s field of vision as he slowly flips through his records, unseeing.

There’s a pause.

“Oh my,” Tora exclaims. “Booster, you look so handsome.”

“Handsome? He looks hot as hell!” Bea grins.

“Thank you,” Booster says with a chuckle. Maybe even blushing. “I don't know, with photo editing these days -- that’s probably not even my body.”

“Oh trust me, it’s your body.” Out of the corner of his eye Ted can see Bea wink at Booster.

Ted's hands are clammy, they slip on the glossy LP covers.

Booster laughs awkwardly. “They paid me well, anyway.”

“To think we live with a _model_ ,” Tora sighs.

“Well, I’ll -- I’ll get cleaned up for the party. Don’t start without me.” Ted hears footsteps moving away, to the hall, up the stairs.

He exhales and untenses his shoulders, realizing a little too late Bea is looking at him.

“Uh, what about ZZ Top?” he ventures, his mouth dry.

“What’s going on with you two?” Bea asks, frowning.

“Who two?”

“You and Booster,” she waves a finger from Ted to the stairs. “You avoid each other like, well, not the plague, but like you’re both screwing each others’ wives on the side. You’ve stopped speaking.”

“That’s not true,” Ted mutters, trying to keep his voice nonchalant, easy. “We spoke just this morning.”

“Oh, when you said ‘Whose breakfast muffin is this’ and he said ‘Mine’ and you said ‘Oh okay’.” She leans forward, searching him. “That’s speaking?”

“Look, we’re not joined at the hip, you know.” Ted tries to look singularly focused on flipping through his records. “We don’t have to spend every waking hour together.”

“Ever since that mission you two were on in Houston --”

“We just got a bit sick of each other,” Ted interjects quickly. “We both realized we needed a bit of space.”

“It’s been _weeks_ ,” Bea groans. “We’re all tip toeing around you two, trying not to get caught in whatever...” She flutters her fingers in the air. " _Issues_ you two are working through.”

“Here's an idea,” Ted exclaims, getting up, the records in his lap spilling to the floor. “Maybe _everyone here_ could use some space! Some privacy.”

“Don’t be mad, Beetle,” Tora pleads with a soft voice. Bea is looking at him, looking like a pressure cooker about to explode.

“Look, we’ve got more than enough music for tonight.” Ted gestures to their pile. “I’m going upstairs to rest, get some _space_.”

“Yeah, you go nap until you get your head out of your ass!” Bea yells after him as starts to ascend the stairs.

“Beatriz!” Tora’s exclaims, shocked.

Ted stomps his way along the second floor corridor, until he realizes the door to Booster’s rooms is coming up on the right, and he softens his steps. As he passes he can hear the sound of water running, and he thinks for a moment of the particular way Booster’s hair flops down over his eyes when it’s wet.

He shakes his head quickly to rid himself of the mental image as he reaches his own door, slips inside, and locks it behind him.

He groans.

_What a mess._

Until now he’s been telling himself nobody has noticed that things had changed. Believing people have given them the benefit of the doubt, but...

Sure, they don't know what had happened between him and Booster. The confession. “I like you _that way"_. _That_ way. But they know there’s a thing they don’t know, and that’s almost as awful.

He flops down in his bed and rolls over on his back. Tries to unfocus his eyes, tries to empty his head, let the weeks of tension go.

What the others think, that's one thing. That's one problem.

What the hell does _Ted_ think?

He should be flattered, right? Booster likes him, whatever that means. More than anything, he’d like to know what that means. But that would mean asking, and answering, and acknowledging, and there’s an avalanche of things that aren’t meant to be said, not meant to be _felt_ at all.

It’s like limbo, it’s like extended _not knowing_. Because he doesn’t want to know. But that means not knowing.

_(That way.)_

If only Booster hadn’t told him.

Or, not that he should have been forced to hide and lie and keep it secret just to, what, spare Ted’s feelings? It’s more... If only Booster didn’t feel that way.

_(If only I didn’t feel this way.)_

The ridiculous part is that with this thing he keeps worrying about, this thing that keeps him up at night, his first instinct is to go complain to Booster. He's always been able to do that before, but now there's one person he absolutely can't talk to, and it's the person he used to talk to when there weren't anyone else to talk to. The problem is straight up _circular_.

He wishes he could go back and react differently. Or hell, react at all. That would have been a start, a jumping off point for them both. He would have told Booster... What would he have told Booster? _Thank you for your honesty. It must have been hard telling me this. I’m flattered, but I don’t swing that way. Wish I did, you’re a swell guy._

That way.

And the... precursor confession, the lead up. Booster is... gay? Or not _gay_ but... He’s not straight.

Has Booster had...

Has Booster been with men, before?

_Yeah right, Ted, like you’re the kind of guy to turn a straight man. Booster could probably do that, the way he looks, the way he acts, but you --_

He sighs and rubs his eyes with one hand.

Everybody’s probably a little bit attracted to Booster, right?

He’s objectively an extremely handsome man. That, and... He’s kind. He’s hilarious, the funniest guy Ted knows, and... People have a tendency to like him, instantly like him, and that’s a kind of attraction, right? Everyone must have a little crush on Booster Gold.

Everyone. Colleagues and rescuees and passerbys and... And friends.

Close friendship is a kind of attraction, isn't it? If you're in tune with someone, that's great, that's the baseline, and if they turn you on you become lovers, if they don't turn you on you become best friends.

Ted pinches his eyes shut. _Just wipe your mind clean, Ted. You’re going around in circles, as always._

He sits up in bed, rubbing his chin, and reaches out to grab whatever lies on top of the untidy magazine pile next to his bed. Just need some easy mental preoccupation. It’s the latest issue of Movie Mode, one he’s been meaning to read for days. He rolls over on his stomach as he begins flipping through the pages. Just a little bit of mental rest _._

There’s a new Lethal Weapon coming out, he makes a mental note to see that one. Another National Lampoon, a Christmas movie. That saccharine Disney flick with the mermaid is getting mixed reviews, and --

His grip tightens on the page.

Yeah. Bea was right.

Booster’s ad really is in all the magazines.

He tosses the magazine aside, swallowing thickly. The parted lips. The drop of moisture rolling down the clavicle. The sun glinting off the tan skin.

 _I_ don’t _like him. Not that way._

If he’d seen it before Booster -- before things changed, he would have complimented him. Told him he looked good (he _does_ look good, it’s an objective fact, he wouldn't have gotten the gig otherwise), maybe... Maybe teased him women would throw themselves at him now, to see the bits they couldn’t show in the ad. He wouldn't have thought twice about a photo like that before.

Hesitantly he picks the magazine up again. Takes a deep breath before he finds the page again.

Objective facts.

It’s... It’s your regular kind of cologne ad. It’s meant to make you think you’ll be irresistible if you splatter this specific man perfume on yourself. Irresistible like Booster is irresistible.

Objective.

There’s the Dusk bottle inset in the corner, the corny tagline, there’s... Booster, photographed directly overhead as he’s lying -- posing -- on a beach. In a... a black speedo or something. The light implies the sun is low in the sky, he’s got one leg pulled up, waves lapping at his feet, his neck arched back. His gaze is soft, sensual, looking at the camera with low-lidded grey-blue eyes through a fringe of golden eyelashes. His mouth is slightly open, lips parted, like a... A sigh. Or a soft moan.

Ted looks away, cupping his chin in his hand. It’s not... _He’s_ not....

Just an ad. Just your pal doing some modeling for some quick cash.

_I’m not gay. I told him. I’m not gay._

And he'll prove it. He's a scientist, after all.

He breathes deeply through his nose, in and out, before he forces himself to look at the ad again. He focuses with laser precision on the black speedo, the bulge contained in it.

_See?_

_That doesn’t get you going. If it did, you’d know what you were. And you aren’t._

It’s just Booster’s dick. They’ve been in the locker room together countless times, he’s seen plenty more than this photo, and he wasn’t salivating with unbridled lust any of those times. They even had an impromptu wrestling match once, only wearing towels straight out of the shower, and that -- that’s as close as he's ever gotten to any of _that_ business.

So no, he doesn’t like Booster that way.

Proven. Concluded. Twice underlined.

A little comforted, he lets his eye wander over the page. Tries to look at it like he would before. Booster's abs are, as always, perfect. Ted would kill for abs like his. And he’s really getting somewhere with the quads. He feels a vague sense of pride, being the guy who taught Booster how to squat.

That defined Apollo’s belt though, those neat furrows sectioning his hips from his thighs, that’s new. He didn't know Booster's been working on those. The speedo’s low cut, showing them off, really guiding the eyes down his abdomen, down, down. He wonders how they’d feel to the touch, those new muscles, what it would be like to trail his fingertips all the way down to --

He throws the magazine away, hard enough that it smacks against the wall, and burrows his face into his blanket. That stir he felt, the pressure against his boxers, makes him want to scream.

Yes. Some parts of him wants him. Wants Booster. Has for a while now. And one of those parts is starting to become a worry.

He presses his face harder into the bed, his eyes pinched shut, but the images remain. The water droplets on the skin, the strong hand with fingers splayed, digging into the wet sand, head tilted back, the neck. And he can't stop himself, for only a moment, imagining himself kissing that neck, feeling those water droplets against his tongue, making Booster look at him like that, with that soft and adoring and dirty gaze.

Ted squirms against the bed. _Fuck_ he’s horny.

He gets another mad impulse, that he can pick up the magazine again, lie on his back, one hand holding it up so he can look at that photo and slide a hand inside his pants. Touch himself looking at that image, get off while taking in the sight of Booster all hot and exposed. Maybe that would finally --

He punches the mattress.

He’s been with women. Lots of women. _Well_ , not breaking any records, but his fair share. And he -- none of them had any complaints. Well, there was Marie in college but to be fair, he was _really_ nervous that time.

Women turn him on. Absolutely. Breasts and legs and asses of all shapes, long hair and full lips and eyelashes (lips parted, a fringe of blonde eyelashes). He’s an attentive, enthusiastic lover, or imagines himself to be. No lying back and thinking of England. And he...

With women, he knows what to do, or at least what he wants to do with them. With Booster... He doesn’t even know what he wants to do with Booster. To, _for_ Booster.

The things guys (gays) do to each other, thinking about that doesn’t get him going. So that is proof, right?

It’s all a vague, undefined desire. It’s wanting Booster, a blurry concept of just _wanting_ , and that’s it. Maybe kissing him, being close to him in some vague way.

Slowly he becomes aware of a dim rhythm beating, and for a moment he thinks it's his own heartbeat. But no, it's from the outside, from below him. He pushes himself up on his knees and looks at the digital clock on his nightstand. Shit, the party’s already started. The party for him and Fire, with the League and whatever other heroes responded to Bea's invitation.

He looks down at his erection, straining against his jeans, and he sighs. Not like he can head down in this condition.

What he ought to is dig through his box of blueprints and old porn, find a random centrefold, some long-legged lady with permed hair, and jerk off however long it takes, death grip himself to a stubborn orgasm. So that maybe the pleasure centre in his brain will be rewired. So that it'll understand what he's supposed to want, what is meant to get him going.

But he's not in the mood.

He gets off the bed, casting a glance at the magazine with Booster’s ad, and he decides to have a shower. A very cold shower.

Twenty minutes later Ted ventures down the stairs, into the throng of heroes laughing, drinking, dancing. Some are in civvies, some in costume -- mostly those whose identities aren’t known to anyone, not even other heroes.

This is quite a turnout.

_“...I know a place where we can dance the whole night away, underneath electric stars...”_

He scans the room, the sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces. Pushes past a group of people where Wally is telling some funny anecdote.

He sees Booster in the corner, talking to Animal Man. Booster listening attentively, beer in one hand, his other hand in his pocket. He looks so at ease, looks so stylish in ripped stone-washed jeans and a tight purple shirt.

Ted swallows and heads the other way, towards the kitchen.

“Hey, Beetle! The man of the hour!”

Ted feels a hand clap on his shoulder and spins around to see who it is. “Oh Scott. Hi.”

“Where have you been?” he grins. “Everybody’s been asking about you.”

“Oh I just --” Ted glances towards Booster again. “I dozed off. Look, where are the drinks?”

“You’re headed the right way, Max has emptied every liquor stand in the state, it seems. It’s in the kitchen. So what does it feel like being back in the fray?”

“I’ll catch you later, Miracle,” Ted smiles weakly and pushes past, knowing how rude he must seem. He just needs a couple of drinks in him, just needs a bit of a buzz to enjoy himself, talk to everyone.

Scott wasn’t kidding. The counter and kitchen table is covered in bottles of every conceivable type of alcohol. Some of them look particularly expensive, foreign indecipherable labels and all, a far cry from the dishwater Ted’s funds usually buy him. He looks at the wealth of choices, a little disoriented.

“Comrade Maxwell’s wallet must be crying, yes?” It’s Dmitri, leaning against a cupboard, swaying a little on his feet, but cheerful as always. Maybe a little more than usual, even.

“I’m sure he can afford it,” Ted replies. “I don’t even know what to pick. What are you drinking?”

Dmitri raises a finger to his lips. “Shh, come here,” he whispers, or tries to whisper, but stealth is not his strong suit so if anything it’s louder than his normal speaking voice. “I show you.”

Ted walks over as Dmitri opens the cupboard and retrieves a tall bottle.

“I had to save it from people making silly _cockstails_ with it.” He scrunches his nose in disgust. “Is Moskovskaya Osobaya!”

“Moscosksks--” Ted's voice trails off as he realises he's at a loss pronouncing it, even stone cold sober. “So it’s a vodka?”

“Is _the_ vodka.” Dmitri throws out his arms and almost drops the bottle. “For a hundred years, people drink Moskosvkaya Osobaya. You must try.”

Ted casts a glance at a pile of paper cups on the counter, but somebody’s spilled something dark and viscous over them. He opts instead to get a kitchen glass from the cupboard and lets Dmitri fill it, almost to the brim. “So you just take it neat?”

“Blasphemy any other way. Drink!”

Ted takes a big gulp, and is momentarily surprised how smooth it is, with an almost spicy aftertaste. Then the burning in his throat begins. “Yeah, that’s --” he coughs. “That’s some real stuff.”

Dmitri takes a swig his own glass and grins. He doesn’t seem to feel the burn at all. He raises the bottle up high. “To Comrade Maxwell, who paid for this bottle of history!”

“To Max,” Ted replies, his voice hoarse, and they both drink again.

“And to my friend Beetle,” Dmitri claps a heavy hand on Ted’s shoulder. “Who is well again!”

“To me,” Ted chuckles and they drink some more. The burning is subsiding, becoming more like a slowly spreading warmth in his chest. “And to Bea, who...” he tries to find the appropriately solemn words. “Who can set herself on fire!”

“To Beatriz,” Dmitri cheerfully joins in, and they drink.

They toast every member of the League in turn, praising their characters and recent exploits. It’s a fun little game. They even toast Guy, and Ted only giggles.

“And to -- to...” Dmitri frowns in thought, bottle held aloft. Then he grins and looks at Ted. “To your Booster, always loyal and true!”

Ted coughs, and hesitantly raises his glass. “Yeah. To Booster.” He takes a small sip, and it feels like his shirt collar has shrunk.

“And to... Tooooo....” Dmitri’s voice trails off. “Bah, I can’t think of any more. Listen, friend Beetle,” Dmitri places a firm hand on his shoulder again, obviously more to support himself than a friendly gesture. “Moskosvskaya Osobaya flows through me like a waterfall, I need to...” He frowns, gaze unfocused. “Make tactical detour.”

“Sure, Red,” Ted giggles. “You do that.”

Dmitri begins making his unsteady way to the hall, but stops and turns to Ted again. “Here, hold out glass.” Ted does so, and Dmitri pours the remainder of the vodka. “To history!”

“History,” Ted smiles, and watches Dmitri make his way through the crowd. He feels a little better, a little more comfortable in his own skin.

Once he’s sure Dmitri is gone, he opens the fridge and pours some ginger ale into his vodka, and smirks at the thought of Dmitri suddenly shuddering without knowing why.

Better pace himself. Don’t want to make a total ass out of himself in front of all his colleagues.

Back in the living room the music is playing even louder than before, more people are dancing. _“...You ought to be thankful for all the little things, but little things are all you seem to give...”_

Ted spots a free seat on the couch, and tries to make his way through the crowd. The room is swaying slightly, and hands pat him on the back, people greet him and tell him he’s looking good, welcome him back. He nods and smiles and continues towards his goal. A little unbalanced, but that must be his injured leg.

Somebody grabs hold of his hand.

“Beetle,” Tora beams at him. “Come dance with us.”

Ted laughs thinly. “No, no, no, I’m not drunk yet.”

“Aw, come on, we’re all just having fun.”

“Maybe later,” he shrugs with a smile and lets go of her hand. He passes Guy, dead asleep curled up in a chair, a trail of drool down his chin. People seem to be letting loose tonight.

He plops down on the couch and takes a swig of his glass. He feels less awkward with a place to sit, a home base. Somewhere to observe from.

Tora has found someone else to dance with, a tall dark-haired man Ted hasn’t met. At least out of costume.

He scans the room for Fire’s green hair, the other main character at this party. He spots her a little way off, dancing, wearing a very tight white dress that’s both low cut _and_ high cut, depending how you look at it. There’s a lot of skin showing.

_“...What’s a girl to do, I wanna have fun too, but you’re so jealous you never let me...”_

Ted jumps when he realizes she's dancing with Booster. He sees Booster's blonde, damp hair falling into his eyes as he moves, sees him brush it back with his hand and laugh, the sound drowned out by the music.

Ted takes a long sip of his drink, not moving his gaze.

They look so good together.

Young and beautiful and at ease. Out of everyone’s league.

_“...You know I love you, always thinking of you, but tonight I’ve got to make that move...”_

Not that Booster and Bea are an item. But that’s the kind of person Booster should be with. Someone who’s hip and popular. Someone who’s beautiful like he is.

Ted takes another long sip.

Booster’s an actual model. People pay him to show up and be handsome. Ted couldn’t model anything, except maybe the "before" picture in a Slimfast ad.

“ _Just forget what I said_ ,” Booster had told him, after he _told_ him. Already backtracking, probably already realizing Ted wasn’t only nowhere near his own league, but practically playing a different sport. Whichever way Booster liked him, one look at Ted, short and fat and... Well, that must have cured him of whatever blip of attraction he had felt.

_He probably doesn’t even like me that way anymore._

Yeah. Ted ponders the thought. Here he’s been despairing over a thing Booster told him weeks ago, but maybe Booster’s already moved on. Maybe things can go back to the way they were.

Just friends.

 _Except now I’m the one carrying a torch_ , Ted thinks and miserably downs the rest of his drink. _Whatever_ that _makes me._

_"...Some boys romance, some boys slow dance, that's all right with me..."_

Ted looks at Booster again, at his broad shoulders, his strong thighs, the tan, warm skin showing in the holes of his carefully ripped jeans.

He wonders idly once again if Booster has been with men before. Had _sex_ with men.

He imagines Booster on a bed, on his hands and knees, strong hands gripping his hips, a man behind him, pushing his cock into him. Is that... Is that the kind of thing Booster’s into? Or is Booster the one who likes to...

It’s not like Booster is effeminate. Isn’t that a signal that you like -- prefer to be the, the catcher? If Booster isn’t the girly one, does that make Ted the one who has to...

 _Just stop. You're being silly._ Ted rubs his face. Better acknowledge there's a world of practices and rules he has no idea about.

“Where’s Lord?” he hears Ralph, behind him, shout over the music.

“Upstairs in his office,” Scott shouts back. “He’s working on permits or something.”

“He’s what?”

“He’s working!”

“Oh.”

Ted wants to go back to the kitchen, get another drink, but that would mean possibly giving up his safe vantage point, his place of being part of the party without needing to dance or talk. He stays put, trying to pose himself in an appropriately relaxed posture. He struggles a bit, his legs not quite cooperating.

He looks up again and sees Fire dancing with someone else. He can’t find Booster in the crowd.

Just as well.

“Beetle, come _on_ ,” Tora is there, pulling at his arm. “You said you’d come dance.”

“I told you, I’m not--” he protests.

“Oh yes you are, you _are_ drunk,” she giggles. “Come on, while you can still stand up.”

He allows her to pull him to his feet, and the room swims for a moment. Fine. It’s his party, he can’t sit on the couch and be miserable all night.

They head over to where Bea is, Ted working hard to walk across the crowded room without being pushed over by the people in motion, and as they approach Tora shouts. “He’s ready!”

The sound of Madonna abruptly stops, and Ted looks over at the sound system in the corner, confused. A group of people are frantically changing records, and with the soft noise of the needle hitting the groove, music starts to play again. The rhythm sounds dimly familiar to Ted.

“ _If you see a painted sign at the side of the road that says, ‘Fifteen miles to the’...”_

“ _Loooooove SHACK,_ ” the room erupts as everyone sings along.

Ted can't help but laugh. “The B-52s!”

Tora hugs him and giggles. “We’ve been waiting all night! Come on,” she grabs his hands in hers and bobs to the music, and he can't help but to dance too.

He grins as he lets himself relax into the music, though the room spins every time he moves his head. These people. How he loves every single one of them, even the ones he doesn't know.

_“...Everybody’s moving, everybody’s grooving, baby...”_

He knows he can’t dance, he hasn’t got a graceful bone in his body. Or does he? He feels smoother, cooler out on the floor right now. It feels good to move to the music, with his friends, in his home. He feels content, even happy. He feels confident. On the offchance that he still can’t dance, people will still look at him and think “Boy, that Beetle sure can party.”

He bumps into something behind him and turns his head again, making the room spin. When it stops he realizes he’s looking directly into Booster’s face.

The music is so loud he can’t hear Booster’s voice, but he can see his lips move in a pattern so familiar to him. “Beetle.”

“Booster!” he exclaims with a wide grin and before he can stop himself he’s going for hug, but he leans too far forward without his legs accounting for his displaced center of gravity, and falls heavily against Booster, who quickly claps his arms around him to hold him up.

“You’re having a good time,” Booster shouts into his ear with a smile.

_Yes. Of course I am._

“I saw your ad,” Ted grins as he stands up straight again.

“What?” Booster shouts over the loud music.

“Your ad! It was good!”

“ _What?"_

He feels someone tap him on the shoulder. It’s Bea, who points to the staircase. “If you’re gonna talk you should go!” she exclaims, and Ted nods cheerfully, motioning to Booster to come with him.

It takes a while to negotiate through the crowd, and even longer for Ted to climb up the stairs, but once they’re alone in the second floor hallway Ted can hear himself think again.

Booster smiles, a little awkwardly. He’s so beautiful, the way his face moves is so beautiful. “What were you saying?”

“I saw --" Ted startles at the sound of his own voice, too loud for the quiet corridor. "I saw your ad,” he says again, quieter, still grinning.

“You did?”

“Yeah, it was really good. You looked absolutely killer.”

“Thank you.”

Ted can feel himself swaying a little, and he widens his stance a little bit to regain his balance.

“I liked the -- your thing,” Ted continues abruptly. “Your Apollo’s belt.”

“My what?” Booster looks at him, gentle confusion on his face. Still so beautiful.

“It’s the --” Ted points at his own hips. “You know. _Muscles._ There. I didn’t know you had those now.”

Booster chuckles softly. “That’s what that’s called?”

“What did you do to get it?”

“I don’t know,” Booster quickly glances down the hall and back to Ted. “I’ve been doing a little more core work, you know, like you, and they just kind of... happened.”

“Show me,” Ted says brightly.

“What?”

“Can you show me?”

A subtle noise escapes Booster, a short exhale. He looks down at his feet. “I mean, sure.” He hooks his thumb into his jeans, pushing them down slightly, and pulls his shirt up with his other hand, and Ted can't stop thinking about that ad, all that skin. The water droplets.

Ted stares at that little area of exposed skin, that little real life taste, Booster’s tan, toned right hip, and his heart is pounding against his chest wall. He glances up at Booster, Booster who’s also looking down at himself, biting his lip, like he has no idea how good he looks, and it’s enough to drive Ted crazy. He's crazy, so what? So fucking what, might as well lean into it. Lean in and show Booster how beautiful he is.

It can hardly be called a kiss. He comes in too fast, their teeth crashing together, and Booster flinches back. Ted lunges forward again, their bodies pressed together, until he realizes when someone pulls away when you try to kiss them you should probably stop. He shuffles back, legs wobbly under him.

He focuses on Booster's face, his beautiful face that is looking more than a little alarmed now. Wide eyes staring back at him. “Ted! Beetle, I--”

“Isn’t this what you want?” It comes out like an accusation, when he didn't mean it to. He wants to hear it.

_Do you still want me?_

Booster turns his head, looking down the corridor, and wipes his palm over his face. “Jesus, we can’t do this here.” Ted is vaguely surprised by the apparent anger in his voice. Booster quickly motions to his rooms and slips inside.

Ted follows him silently, thinking about Booster’s bedroom. His bed.

As Booster closes the door Ted presses against him again and kisses him, gentler than the first time, but still confidently, passionately. The way he meant to before. This is what you’re supposed to do, right? Fake it till you make it.

Booster groans softly into his mouth, not pulling away this time. Instead Ted can feel a soft warm tongue against his own, tasting vaguely of beer, and everything is making his head swim even more than it already was.

Booster, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling against Ted's (which seems to be doing the same), eventually pushes him away, gently.

“Beetle, what are you doing?” He looks at him with those blue eyes, those irresistible cologne ad eyes, frowning in confusion. “I thought -- I mean, you’re not --”

“Just for tonight," Ted leans his elbow against the door knob in a suitably debonair way. "Let’s pretend I am.” It sounds good. He feels like some kind of suave confident lover, like... Like Patrick Swayze.

“Jesus, are you for real?” Booster smirks, so close, and the heat from him, the shape of him makes Ted feel a lot less suave.

“Can’t, uh, can’t a guy be curious?” Ted mutters, his momentum gone. “Do you -- Don’t you want to?”

Booster cups Ted’s face in his hands and kisses him, hard, moaning softly as he does so.

_Oh man._

Ted has no idea what to do with his hands. He holds loosely onto Booster’s arms, feels the warm skin under his fingertips. When Booster moves his body Ted feels something brush against his crotch, he knows he wants to do nothing but feel Booster, press every inch of himself against Booster.

His hands are so soft and real and perfect against his face, his tongue so warm against his own, and Ted whimpers when Booster angles his head and kisses him deeper.

_Confidence, Ted. Pretend you know what you’re doing._

Ted moves his hands down, trembling only slightly, sliding down the small of Booster's back, until he reaches his ass, his perfect, firm model ass and squeezes hard.

Booster pulls away from the kiss and chuckles. Then he moves in and kisses Ted's neck.

“What wouldya like to do?” Ted mutters between gasps.

“Jesus, Ted,” Booster whispers into his ear. “There are about a billion things I would like to do right now.”

Oh _fuck_. Ted's trembling from head to toe. “Go ahead,” he gasps.

He can feel Booster’s lips pause against his neck. “You sure?”

“Sure, you -- jus' show me what to do and I’ll do it.” _I’d hammer a nail through my hand right now if you asked me to._

Booster gasps softly against his neck. “Wow, okay, ah, just stop me if you -- if I do something you’re not into.”

“Got it, bud.” Dimly he feels "bud" isn't the right way to address Booster in this situation but he's also beyond caring.

Booster looks down, almost frowning in concentration as Ted feels a tug on the waistband of his slacks, feels fingers unbuttoning his fly. He groans, groans even when there’s nothing directly stimulating happening, just looking at Booster’s face, his eyelashes, the smooth tan skin of his forehead. Feeling his fingers brush against his erection, still separated by underwear.

Ted sways on his feet, and Booster pauses and looks up for a moment, almost like he's studying his face. Ted shifts his weight again, trying to angle his hips forward, show him that he wants -- wants whatever Booster has in mind, but his center of gravity is suddenly somewhere it shouldn't be and he topples against Booster.

Booster giggles, still breathing hard, and pulls him up. “You’re uh, really drunk, Beetle.”

“Jus' a teeny bit” Ted replies. “I’m fine.”

Booster pauses, then gently pushes Ted against the wall. As he tugs on Ted's waistband again, getting the last button on the fly -- and it feels so good, that eager tug, that definite _wanting --_ Ted reaches a hand behind him to steady himself. The angle of the wall is different than he thought it was and he slips and loses his balance again, his shoulder crashing against a dresser.

Booster pulls him up once more. “I think, uh...” Booster so close, his breath warming the skin on Ted’s upper lip. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this now.”

“Whuh -- What?" Ted groans. "No, keep going.”

_Please._

“I want to,” Booster looks at him, that fire in his eyes, those delicious lips in a mischievous smile. “But I don’t think doing it like this would be, it wouldn’t be so smart.”

“No, no.” Ted swallows, a little spark of panic in his chest. “I mean, you’re buzzed too.”

Booster chuckles. “You’re pretty hammered, Beetle.”

“Look, I mean --” Ted tries to channel Swayze, get this show going again, and he grasps Booster’s hips, noticing the little hitch in Booster’s breath as he does so. “It’s not like I’d, uh, tomorrow,” he searches for the words. “You’re not taking advantage of me or anythin'.”

Booster stares down at his feet. Or maybe Ted's feet, they're too close to tell. “Maybe we could pick this up tomorrow?”

“Booster --”

“Or maybe not tomorrow,” he looks up and smirks. “I’m sure you’ll not be feeling too good tomorrow, but -- later?” He gives him a quick kiss, and Ted trembles at the sweetness of it. “Friday?”

“No, c'mon, Booster,” Ted urges.

_No. Not later. I won’t have the courage to do this later. I’m too much of a coward to do this any other night._

He looks at Booster’s beautiful, pleading eyes, and he feels like crying. “This’s more like a,” he clears his throat. “A now or never type of deal.”

Booster swallows, his eyes looking at Ted's but suddenly so distant. “Oh.”

He’s ruined it. It hasn’t even happened and he’s already ruined it.

Booster moves away, frowning. “So, ah,” he says, his voice trembling just a little bit. “That's not -- I guess that's final, then.”

“Booster,” Ted mutters, but he can’t find any words to say. He reaches out to touch Booster’s arm, but Booster shrugs him off.

“You’re, um,” Booster walks up to the window and looks out into the night. His silhouette against the street lights is magnificent. “You’re really not playing fair here, Beetle.”

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t turn to look at him. “No, it’s--it’s fine.” He looks down. “You go sleep it off, Beetle. We’ll forget it.”

“I’m sorry,” Ted says again.

Booster doesn’t answer.

Ted wonders for a moment if he walked up to him, threw his arms around him, kissed him, showed how -- showed how much he wanted this, then maybe Booster would see.

But even as drunk as he is, he knows defeat when he sees it.

Dimly he watches his own hands unlock the door, turn the knob. The light of the hallway burns his eyes as he steps out. He looks one more time at Booster, the silhouette still looking out the window, and he closes the door behind him.

He has the distinct feeling whatever just happened, he made a bigger mess of what was already a humongous mess.

He stumbles down the hall, towards his own room, as the music from downstairs carries as a muffled echo, “ _...I’m so glad I’m in your arms, baby I am yours tonight..._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Look I'm blueballing myself here too.
> 
> Also I spent half a day researching magazines published in 1989 that would both be something Ted would read AND that would realistically carry a cologne ad, then I realized WOW that's not the best use of my time at all! So I made up a magazine. There's research and then there's getting too caught up in the details.
> 
> Sexy swimwear cologne ads featuring Booster is genuinely in continuity thought. I know what details are IMPORTANT.
> 
>  **[Songs:](https://open.spotify.com/user/tilly_stratford/playlist/4SqomvmhyncWPEAobYUZ88?si=DNXWufsLSs29KqRywW2U9A)**  
>  Love Shack - The B-52s  
> Rhythm of the Night - DeBarge  
> I Wanna Have Some Fun - Samantha Fox  
> Material Girl - Madonna  
> Secret Rendezvous - Karyn White  
> The Blood That Moves the Body - a-ha


End file.
